


On late night tea and the specifics of vampiric transformation

by itsalwayssunnyit



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyit/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyit
Summary: An unusual expression comes onto Geoffrey’s face just then, an odd mix of aversion and curiosity. “So, in theory, one could become a vampire by accident. For, say, giving head.”
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 81





	On late night tea and the specifics of vampiric transformation

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it took me over two months to get this done, but here it is  
> I'm not a native speaker of English and this hasn't been beta read, so all mistakes are mine

Geoffrey walks closer to where Jonathan is leaning over the medical journals spread on his desk to point at a specific paragraph, his body a solid line of heat next to the Ekon. He nods at the papers with a slow, “So, according to this…”

Jonathan glances at the text, eyes narrowed. The whole thing is written in French, which is the whole reason they’re working on it together. Geoffrey’s French is tentative at best, definitely not enough for him to make sense of the medical journals his men have recently uncovered, which might hold some relevant information. Or so he thought. Now, more than a few hours in their slow but steady exploration of the journal’s contents, Geoffrey is more grossed out than optimistic.

“Well, it says that exchange of bodily fluids other than blood is definitely not enough for a person to be turned, you see,” Jonathan explains. Then, he flips a couple of pages back and points at another passage. “But then, it says here that there’s always a risk of blood overflowing if a vampire has… fed more than needed.”

“You’re talking _bodily fluids_ ,” Geoffrey says slowly. “Spit and, and…”

Jonathan cautiously nods. “Semen. Tears. Urine. Phlegm, I suppose.”

“That’s… mildly disturbing.” An unusual expression comes onto Geoffrey’s face just then, an odd mix of aversion and curiosity. “So, in theory, one _could_ become a vampire by accident. For, say, giving head.”

Jonathan snorts inelegantly. Can’t help it. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting the hunter to say, but it definitely wasn’t _that_. “I suppose. I mean, given such criteria, it would be possible to, to be turned via… fellatio.” The corner of his lips trembles and he feels like a twelve-year-old all of a sudden, unable to talk about sex without laughing.

Geoffrey reaches for the glass he’d been sipping whisky from, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, is that the medical term?” he inquires and then licks his lips before taking a sip and Jonathan can’t help but track the movement of his tongue, Geoffrey’s strong throat working as he swallows the smooth liquid with a pleased little sigh. “ _Fellatio_.”

Jonathan doesn’t answer. Close as they are standing, shoulders almost brushing together, he can smell the dark aroma of the whisky Geoffrey’s drinking and the unique and now so familiar gunpowder-metal-musk scent of the hunter’s skin. He can’t really tell if this is Geoffrey’s way of flirting or if the hunter is just trying to make him squirm, but they’re so close it would be just about the easiest thing to lean in and have a taste of that whiskey straight from Geoffrey’s tongue.

Jonathan hesitates, though. Just a second, just enough for a sharp knock at his door to startle them apart.

A second later, Avery is pushing the door open with an apologetic, “Excuse me, Mr. Jonathan, Mr. McCullum. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.” The old butler carries a small silver tray inside. “I have brought you some tea and biscuits, you see. It’s rather late and you haven’t eaten at all.”

 _In ages_ , Jonathan doesn’t say. Avery leaves the tray on the desk.

“Thank you, Avery,” Jonathan offers. “We might be a bit longer, so please go ahead and retire for the night.”

“Very well.” Avery nods politely. “Good night, gentlemen.”

Avery closes the door as he leaves and Geoffrey glances at Jonathan with a warm, curious sparkle in his eye as he finishes the last bit of his whisky. Jonathan tries not to think too hard about it, doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Are you hungry, Geoffrey?” Geoffrey shakes his head dismissively, gaze once more focused on the journals. Jonathan gives him a considering look. “You should eat something.”

Geoffrey wrinkles his nose and seems to have to physically pull himself away from the notes, but relents, “I’ll have some tea, then.”

Jonathan pours. No sugar, no milk. He hands Geoffrey the cup and steals careful glances as the hunter drinks in small sips. It must be almost midnight, now, the night air quiet and still around them. Geoffrey reaches for a biscuit and Jonathan tries to remember the first time he realised his feelings for the man went beyond friendship and admiration and can’t really remember. It’s been almost three years since they first met and they’ve come such a long way, overcome hardship and the strains that came with their social positions — the vampire and the vampire hunter. Somewhere along the way, Jonathan began to wonder what would happen if he were to give in and _kiss_ Geoffrey the way he wanted to, what it would be like to have him in his bed every day, by his side every night.

“Shit,” Geoffrey suddenly exclaims, setting the teacup and his half-eaten biscuit down. He’s grimacing and Jonathan can smell… _blood_.

Shit, indeed. The edges of Jonathan’s vision gain a distinct red tint. He hasn’t fed in… god, it’s been days, and it’s not _just_ blood, you see, but painfully _familiar_ blood, blood that Jonathan has tasted before, only once, on that terrible night Geoffrey confronted him on top of the Pembroke Hospital.

Blood that has haunted him ever since.

Given how effective a weapon Jonathan’s fangs are in combat, the Ekon has tasted more than his fair share of blood. Nothing has ever come remotely close to Geoffrey’s blood, however, so rich and _forbidden_ and yet… sweet.

Geoffrey rolls his tongue around his mouth with a pained grimace, trying to feel the spot where he bit into his own cheek. Not satisfied, he pushes his index finger inside to press against the wound. When he pulls the digit out, the tip is bright red, shiny with blood and saliva.

Jonathan balls his hands into fists, struggling to control himself in a way he hasn’t in years. Geoffrey cusses, “Son of a bitch,” and promptly licks the blood off his finger.

It all it takes for Jonathan to snap. He moves inhumanly fast, traps the hunter against him with an arm around his waist and fingers buried into his hair. Geoffrey lets out this shocked little squeak as their lips collide in an aggressive kiss, but the sound quickly morphs into a pleased hum as he wraps both arms around Jonathan’s shoulders and starts kissing back just as fiercely.

The instant the flavour of Geoffrey’s blood touches Jonathan’s tongue, red flames explode behind the Ekon’s closed eyelids. He lets out a hungry, devastated groan, and swallows around the taste, surging up against Geoffrey, pulling them together until they’re aligned, pressed tightly against each other with barely any space between them. Their lips part briefly and then reconnect in increasingly hungry kisses, the slick slide of their tongues and lips obscenely loud amidst Geoffrey’s breathless groans of pleasure, which are echoed by the not so quiet moans Jonathan can’t help but make.

Under the lingering taste of blood, Jonathan can taste black tea and whiskey, the bland biscuits Geoffrey had been eating and something deeper and darker that is entirely too Geoffrey. When Geoffrey pulls away, Jonathan lets out a protesting whine to which Geoffrey responds with a breathless little chuckle. He holds Jonathan with both hands around his face and whispers against his lips, “Fucking finally.”

Jonathan blinks stupidly, trying to clear his head. “So you _were_ flirting with me,” he huffs. He’s got Geoffrey in a tight embrace and although he’s not happy they’re not kissing at the moment, he’s content to gaze into the hunter’s smiling eyes for now.

“Thought you’d never catch on,” Geoffrey teases, voice warm with mirth, thumbs stroking the line of Jonathan’s beard. “For such a brilliant doctor, you can be pretty clueless, Jon.”

“How long?” Jonathan demands. He feels so warm pressed up against Geoffrey like this, his undead heart light as a songbird. He brings one hand up, cups Geoffrey’s handsome face and tries his best not to look like a love-sick puppy.

He fails.

“Not that long… couple of months, at most,” Geoffrey roguishly admits. He turns his face into Jonathan’s soft caress, presses a kiss to Jonathan’s palm, his lips hot against Jonathan’s colder skin. “I wasn’t sure… I didn’t know if you were just being daft or if you were uninterested.”

“Oh, I was interested,” Jonathan replies, tilting his hips just enough to let Geoffrey feel just _how_ interested. Geoffrey’s lips part in a surprised exhalation, but he’s not pulling away. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Was?” the hunter arches an eyebrow.

“ _Am_.” As if to prove the veracity of his statement, Jonathan takes one of Geoffrey’s hands in a gentle grasp, pulls it between their bodies to press against where he’s hard already, straining under his clothes, just from a few kisses. He can’t recall ever having wanted someone so much and the way Geoffrey’s eyes darken, fingers cupping and pressing up against Jonathan’s length, only thickens the haze of lust around them. “ _Very_ … interested.”

“Hm. Let’s see.” Geoffrey is quick in undoing Jonathan’s trousers, his movements impatient but confident, almost eager. His eyes burn into Jonathan’s and it’s shocking, having so much raw _want_ directed at him. Geoffrey’s fingers are warm when they wrap around Jonathan’s prick, a pleased smirk on his lips. When he strokes it — from the base to the tip, thumb teasing the moist slit — Jonathan lets out a broken curse.

Geoffrey rejoices in being able to get the prim and proper doctor to lose his composure, but he wants more.

“So, am I right to say that, on the light of recent discoveries, _fellatio_ is not advisable?” he asks, licking his lips.

Jonathan shivers at the dark rasp of the hunter’s voice and the mere idea of having Geoffrey’s mouth touching him so intimately makes him throb, slick pouring into the hand still teasing his flesh. He stares at the playful smirk arching Geoffrey’s lips and wants nothing more than those lips wrapped around him, warm and wet.

He hesitates, though.

“Well,” Jonathan starts, reaching for the bulge between the hunter’s legs in turn. He feels big and thick under Jonathan’s fingers and so amazingly _warm_ that even though Jonathan has next to zero experience doing anything like what he’s about to propose, he suddenly wants nothing more than to taste him, have the weight of Geoffrey’s arousal forcing his mouth and throat open. “ _You_ shouldn’t, but I suppose I could…”

“Yeah, those teeth aren’t getting anywhere near my prick, Jon, no matter how talented that mouth of yours is,” Geoffrey interrupts him. His tone is light-hearted, however, and he’s pushing and pulling at Jonathan until he has got the Ekon half-sitting on the desk, lips brushing his with a murmured, “Come here.”

And just like that, they’re kissing again — long and deeply and despite how incapable he is of stringing two thoughts together at the moment, Jonathan somehow manages to get Geoffrey’s trousers open. Before he can actually touch the hunter where he wants, though, Geoffrey is pulling him close with hands behind his knees and fitting between Jonathan’s legs until they’re more or less lined up. He wraps a hand around them and it doesn’t matter that he can’t quite get a good hold on them, Jonathan is moaning into the messy kiss, feeling like he’s burning up in the best way possible.

Geoffrey’s hips keep rolling into his own grip, pushing his hot and increasingly wet length against Jonathan’s as his fingers tighten, loosen and time becomes a very distant concept. Jonathan can do little but hold on and try to kiss him back.

He can tell when Geoffrey gets close because his rhythm falters and he goes dangerously quiet, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against Jonathan’s. His climax explodes in a cloud of chloride and salt and Jonathan’s mouth waters as Geoffrey pulses and spills, his seed hot like blood splashing against Jonathan’s skin.

“God,” Jonathan moans, barely coherent. Geoffrey’s breathing hard, these warm puffs of air that tickle Jonathan’s cheek. Jonathan is dangerously close himself, it won’t take much, so he reaches for his own cock as Geoffrey catches his breath.

“Impatient,” Geoffrey reprimands, but doesn’t try to stop him. He actually pulls back a tad, looking down at Jonathan’s grasp sliding through semen and precome in frantic, almost desperate jerks, and then up at Jonathan’s face. Jonathan doesn’t want to think about what it is Geoffrey is seeing. Whatever it is, it seems to please him immensely, because the hunter looks almost captivated. It sort of makes Jonathan want to hide himself, but Geoffrey’s gaze weights on him like a touch. “That’s it,” Geoffrey says when Jonathan can’t bite back the noises spilling from his lips, his muscles taunt, body ready. “Come on, let go.”

Jonathan’s eyes slide shut as he comes. Geoffrey keeps whispering nonsensical praise while Jonathan clutches at him with his free hand and spills between them, pleasure so intense he sees spots behind his eyelids. It seems to go on and on, stretching wave after spine melting wave and then Geoffrey is nuzzling his neck as the aftershocks recede, laying tender kisses against his throat, touching him gently and almost lovingly. Jonathan tries to pay no mind to the warm flutter inside his chest, but very soon is all he can think about — that and the hope that maybe Geoffrey will stay the night after they get cleaned up.

“No blood,” Geoffrey suddenly says, distractedly running his fingers through the mess Jonathan made. Jonathan glances down between them, face warm.

Well, that’s a mess, all right.

“Well, I,” Jonathan begins, flustered as if he hasn’t just seen Geoffrey come. He hisses as Geoffrey touch grazes the oversensitive flesh of his slowly softening dick, smearing more white over his fingers. “I don’t make a habit of overeating, so,” he explains. Geoffrey still has a considering look in his eyes, so Jonathan whispers, “You shouldn’t risk it, though.”

Geoffrey grins, sheepish, “I really want to, though.” He pulls his hand up between them as if to get a closer look. The tips of his fingers are wet. He’s looking at Jonathan, though, at the way Jonathan’s nostrils flare at the mixed scent of their seed. “Your dick and my mouth, huh. Could be a wonderful thing.”

“You’ll be the death of me, you know,” Jonathan pushes the hunter’s hand away with a fond chuckle, but ends up treading his fingers through Geoffrey’s, mindless of how sticky they are. “Let’s see if we can find more information, before we do something reckless, shall we?”

Geoffrey squeezes Jonathan’s hand back with a soft, “ _More_ reckless, you mean?”

It’s such a small gesture, but it means the world.

They fix their clothes up quietly, stealing kisses here and there and Geoffrey doesn’t seem to be in any rush to leave. Then, suddenly, he goes, “So, blood has to actually be _ingested_ in order for the transformation to take effect, right? I mean, orally.” Jonathan nods quietly, still too out of it to fully trust his voice. “What about penetrative sex?”

At that, Jonathan relaxes. He feels like an invisible weight has been lifted as he wraps an arm around Geoffrey and offers a deceitfully innocent, “Give me five minutes.”

**Author's Note:**

> all feedback is greatly appreciated <3 have a good one, you guys! happy holidays!


End file.
